


Toilet Talk

by littlemissvincentvega



Series: Vince's Princess ♥ [11]
Category: Pulp Fiction (1994)
Genre: Bathing, F/M, Why Is Vince Always Pooping?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 12:22:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18343607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemissvincentvega/pseuds/littlemissvincentvega
Summary: you're just trying to have a relaxing bath when your boyfriend Vincent dashes in. bickering follows, as always!!





	Toilet Talk

You close your eyes, inhaling the wonderfully vanilla-scented candles you had planted on each corner of the bathtub. Stretching your legs out, you sigh and smile to yourself– you’re spoilt, admittedly, but it’s a lot of fun. You’d always dreamt of a life of luxury, not having to worry about anything, being cared for and loved– and that’s just what you have. Mulling all of this over just makes your heart smile, and your eyelids begin to droop, the warmth from the steam making you drowsy, when the bathroom door flings open and bangs against the wall.

“Vincent!” you gasp, dragging the bubbles over your lady parts. “What d’you think you’re playing at?! I nearly shat myself!”

He kicks the door shut and looks down at you, unbuckling his belt. “So will I if I don’t go now!”

“Oh my  _God,_  Vince, you could’ve gone earlier instead!”

“Baby, I don’t choose when it wants to come out,” he says. You cover your eyes as he yanks down his pants and boxers and sits himself on the toilet, still looking at you. “The fuck are you coverin’ your eyes for?”

“I don’t wanna look at your dick right now, I’m trying to relax.”

“Ain’t got no complaints ‘bout it so far.”

“D’you really have to talk to me while you’re doing that?”

“Jeez, I thought we were at that point where you’d inspect my asshole if I asked you to, a shit’s nothin’.”

You roll your eyes. “Let me just make one thing clear– I will  _never_ inspect your asshole. Jules can do that.”

“Whatever. Can I join you after this?” he asks, craning his neck to try and catch a glimpse of your tits.

“ _NO!”_ you hiss, a disgusted look plastered over your face, “I don’t want your ass in this water after you’ve took a shit!”

Vincent puffs and blows, looking around the room restlessly. “I should’a brought my book.”

“Why, am I boring you?”

“No, honeypie. Maybe if you showed me your tits–”

You throw him an _‘are you serious?’_ type of look - the look that he knows means he’s testing your patience - and he sulks. “Can I at least fuck you later?” he mumbles.

“If you promise to shower before, maybe.”

“Alright.”

Vincent very much dominates you - he praises you, scolds you, punishes you and makes sure you’re a good girl for him - but hell, do you have him wrapped around your finger. He panders to your every need, making sure you’re happy and satisfied– you’re his special girl and he’s your special daddy. You lay your arms on the side of the bathtub and rest your chin on them, watching him. “Can we go out for breakfast tomorrow?”

“Anything you want, baby, as long as I can chew with my mouth open.”

“I hate you.”

He smirks at you, eyes full of pure love for you. “So can I see your tits?”

You retaliate by flicking water at him. “Ah, now baby, I ain’t takin’ you nowhere if there’s nothin’ for me in return,” he tuts, chuckling to himself.

“You’re not funny,” you say, lying back, bubbles still covering your breasts. You close your eyes. “Oh yeah, you need to take me to go get Jules his birthday stuff.”

“Why can’t you go yourself?”

“Fuck you, I will then!” you huff. As you open your eyes to eyeball him, you grimace. “Oh my  _God_ , close your fucking legs, Vince!”

“I’ll remember you said that next time you want a piece of cock!”

Sulking, you rest your chin on the side of the tub again, accepting the fact that you’re not gonna be able to have a relaxing bath for once. “What d’you want for dinner?”

“Somethin’ edible.”

“Smartass. What meal?”

“I don’ know, like a burger or somethin’? I don’t feel like bein’ healthy.”

“You never do,” you smile. “We can have junk food if you promise to take me to get Jules’ birthday shit.”

“Jesus, honeypie, I was gonna take you anyways, but alright– oh, hang on a sec–” He grasps at his pants, his hands finding the pocket, and pulls out a pack of Red Apples. “Be a good girl and pass me the matches.”

You throw him the box of matches you had used to light the candles and he lights a cig. “You’re really gonna smoke taking a shit?” 

“So?”

“‘I’m not a chainsmoker’, he says,” you scoff, looking him up and down.

He chuckles at you. “That’s my cheeky little fucker.”

“Shut your eyes, I’m getting out now. Don’t wanna be here to witness whatever bomb comes out your ass,” you smirk, and he does so as you step out and wrap a towel around you. “You can open ‘em now,” you continue, bending over to pull the plug.

Seizing an opportunity, Vincent leans over and smacks your ass over your towel, laughing at himself. “Ha-ha-very-funny,” you scowl, flicking his nose on each syllable. He screws his face up at this, still smiling, and you open the door to leave. “Actually, before I go–” You unwrap the towel a little, allowing him to catch a glimpse of your full body. His eyes widen, cigarette barely hanging between his lips, and he’s completely entranced by you– smirking, you wrap the towel back around you. “Make sure you open a window when you’re done, daddy.”

 

 


End file.
